Snips and Skyguy: Return of the One Shots

Sandstorm

i have covid so GUESS WHATTTTTT

"I just got the results. We both tested positive," Anakin said, reaching forward to adjust the cloth on his padawan's forehead. "Not much that we can do about it," he continued with a shrug.

"Ugh, I'm sorry," Ahsoka muttered, sniffling. "I didn't mean to pass it to you."

"What did you think was going to happen?" he asked with a soft laugh, gently rubbing her head. "I was expecting this, Snips," he reassured her.

"What d'you mean?" she asked, rolling onto her side and closing her eyes.

Anakin pulled the blankets more tightly around her when she shivered.

"Well, if I take care of you while you're sick, obviously I'm going to get sick too," he teased, standing up from the bed to get another blanket out of the closet, much to Ahsoka's disappointment.

"Where are you going?" she exclaimed, sitting up.

"Relax, relax," he soothed, draping the cover over her. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Why would you take care of me if you know that you're going to get sick too?" she continued when he sat back down on the bed with her. 

"Well, why wouldn't I?" he retorted with a grin. "It's my job."

"Not like they pay you," she muttered, closing her eyes once again. 

"You feeling better is payment enough."

"Thank you, Master." She hid her smile in her pillow. "I'll be there for you too when your symptoms show up."

"Thank you, Padawan," he replied, catching her hand when she reached up to gently hit him in the cheek. "Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?" he teased, repeatedly punching her hand into her own face to make her laugh.

"Stop it, I'm going to start coughing again," she wheezed, pushing him away. 

"You should get some rest, little one."

"Kinda hard to do when I'm hitting myself in the face."

"Yeah, you should probably stop doing that."

"Hmm, definitely considering it," Ahsoka giggled, flipping back over onto her back.

"C'mere, Sicky," Anakin teased, letting go of her hand in order to lift her head up toward his slightly, before moving the cloth out of the way and pressing his lips to her forehead. "Medicine's working."

"Who's gonna take care of us when you start feeling sick?" she asked as he pulled back. 

"Obi-Wan, I'm guessing."

"But won't he get sick too, then? That's probably not the best id—"

"What did I tell you about masters and padawans? It's a master's job to care for their padawan. No matter what," he reminded her.

"So, you'd do anything for me?" she inquired.

Anakin arched an eyebrow.

"...maybe?" he replied, suspiciously.

"Even if it involved sand?"

"Okay, well, what are the stakes here?"

Ahsoka laughed loudly, making her master beam.

"If you had to walk through a sandstorm to keep me from dying, would you?"

Anakin hummed in thought. He remembered sandstorms—each grain of the substance an agonizing blade in his worn skin, piercing every uncovered inch of his body. He remembered clinging to his mother as a youngling, and then trying to block her from the bite of the desert once he was older. Always a protector.

But, when he thought of losing Ahsoka, it was like feeling those tiny daggers soar right through his chest and inside of him, destroying his heart, little by little. Unbearable.

"To save you, Snips," he began, "I'd walk through a thousand."

LMAO IT'S 5AM AND I HAVENT SLEPT AT ALL I JUST READ AN OLD ARGUMENT I HAD IN A GROUPCHAT ALL NIGHT IT WAS REALLY FUNNY